Match Maker
by lotrmatrixstarwarsfan
Summary: Legolas's friend decides to matchmake with hillarious results. Chapter 2 up! Preparations leading up to the interview are underway.
1. An agreement

Match-maker

Chapter 1: An Agreement

Spring had come and passed, and summer sped by in a whirlwind of events. The forest floor of Eryn Lasgalen was now covered in the fallen leaves and the few leaves that remained on the branches were painted in varying autumnal hues of reds and yellows. Under an oak tree, a solitary figure sought respite from all the hustle and bustle of elves preparing for the annual autumn feast. Bow and quiver were rested on a rock nearby, placed carefully in the manner of a warrior.

Sinking to the ground and resting his blonde head against the tree, the elf relaxed into the solitude of the forest, inhaling the forest air and simply revelling in the familiar sounds and smells of the forest. Oak, beech, ash, these were the trees in which he had spent many happy childhood days holed up in one bough or other. Hearing the murmur of trees singing their delight at his return, seeing the vast expanse of greenery that spread as far as his eye could see, feeling the craggy, worn bark of the old oak tree beneath sensitive fingertips, he was flooded with happiness. He was home.

With an impish grin, he grabbed a handful leaves and tossed them into the air. He was careful though to ensure that they landed in front of him, and not on him. While a little mess did not bother him, his father was of a different mind regarding appearances.

As he settled down quite comfortably in his position, the news he received upon his return soon came to his mind, none of it pleasant. He shook his head as if to dispel distasteful thoughts, though they persisted in tormenting him. It was a festive season and he should be filled with light and joy.

Yet despite his relaxed pose, he had completely not abandoned caution, his senses extended to their limit as he searched the surroundings for possible danger. Though peace had come, it was always prudent to be certain of safety for small bands of orcs still took to prowling around.

It was safe, he decided after a moment, but wait, his keen hearing picked up the sounds of approaching footsteps. The possibility of threat was dismissed, however, as at the very same moment, he had detected the faint hum of elven song, a very familiar tune and voice at that. He smiled to himself and rose to his feet, determined to surprise the other with a very warm welcome indeed.

Scant minutes later, a second elf appeared in the clearing. He was dressed in the greens and browns of the Mirkwood Home Guard and a hood obscured much of his face in shadow. His arms were folded across his chest and in each hand, a long white elven knife, while bow and quiver were slung across the back. This was surely not a figure to be crossed.

A knife appeared seemingly out of nowhere, swung in an downward arc at the newcomer, who calmly parried the stroke aside with one blade. The assailant seemed to be deterred as the knife was swiftly withdrawn and there was the sound of metal being sheathed.

The first elf materialised from the shadows, twirling an arrow from his quiver in his right hand. The second merely regarded him coolly, piercing gray eyes sparkling from beneath the hood. Neither seemed alarmed at the turn of events.

'You found me earlier than I would have expected.'

The second elf threw back his hood and swept his dark hair out from beneath the fabric, all the while, gray gaze pinioning the other with a mock glower. It was revealed in that moment that the he was actually a she— a beautiful, feisty maiden to be exact.

'Are you insinuating something? A lack of speed perhaps? Speak for yourself.' There was a hint of challenge in the calm accusation, indignation bleeding through dulcet tones.

'I made no such statement. You read too deeply into my words.' Quiet, collected, it was answered blandly.

'Nay, you cannot deny the hidden meaning in those words. I demand a withdrawal of that unfounded allegation.' There was open challenge in her words, but by now, wide smiles had slowly spread across their initially stolid expressions, ruining any pretense of levity and hostility.

'Welcome back, Legolas.' They clasped forearms in a warrior's greeting, and then maiden embraced him fiercely, almost toppling them both.

'I would appreciate if you released me.' He said wryly, gently prying her arms off him and releasing himself from her death grip. 'If I was not so certain otherwise, I would have been convinced that you greeted an elf returned from the halls of Mandos.'

'Not quite, but it comes close. A certain elven prince was supposed to be delivering a message to Imladris but ending up gallivanting on a Quest to save Middle-earth, slaying orcs and abandoning his fellows in Mirkwood.' Legolas laughed, rubbing his arms where they had been bruised by the overenthusiastic hug, but her sharp gray eyes did not miss the fleeting shadow in the clear grey glance and she resolved to talk to him about it later. For now, she sensed a different sort of problem.

'Something troubles you.' It was in very countenance, the slight furrowing of brows, the creases at the corner of the mouth, the hint of a grimace and the elusive slump in his shoulder, as if warding off an unpleasant thought. Yes, something was definitely wrong.

'You think too much. Nothing is the matter.' Legolas shrugged off the question mildly. His feigned insouciance did not fool her. In fact, his attention to the arrow in his hands and the refusal to meet her glance, only served to reinforce the impression of something amiss. She did not immediately expose his untruth, though, waiting to allow him to reveal what he would.

Minutes passed in silence. When no answer was forthcoming, she decided that a more direct approach was needed.

'Out with it, Thranduilion. You are clearly distressed and morose, and broadcasting the signal for anyone who can read it. Speak.'

When he did not respond, she continued to speak, baiting him out of his self-imposed silence. 'And if I may hazard a guess. Nine out of ten, this has something to do with your father.'

Legolas sighed, resigned to the fact that it was pointless to lie to his best friend. At times like these, he wondered if she had the ability to read minds. Resigned to his fate, he nodded slowly, but did not seek to explain further. In response, she prompted him repeatedly with discreet coughs. Sighing for a second time in the brief span of a few seconds, he recalled his friend's tenacity in attaining her goals. He scowled, knowing that there was no other way, but not content to let his friend get away with her prying.

'My father...' He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as abruptly as he started. He honestly had no idea where to start. But he did not have to reply after all, for his friend already had the answer.

'Let me guess, could it be your father will be arranging a ball, which you are obligated to attend and during which you are to socialise and possibly find yourself a match?' She paused thoughtfully, letting the question linger in the air, smirking. Legolas arched a brow.

'It seems you should have been a soothsayer under the Lady Galadriel instead of loitering around and annoying me to no end. Indeed, my father has decided that since I have been taking forever to find a companion, it would only be appropriate to organise a ball to allow me to— what is that term he uses, ah yes— review my options. In contrast to his enthusiasm, I have plans otherwise. Much as I appreciate his efforts, I am enjoying my status as an eligible bachelor and would like to remain as I am. Pray tell, how come you by this piece of information?'

'I am psychic.' She said smugly, a smile playing on her lips. Legolas evidently did not believe her. The truth was she had been on her way to the forest when she overheard the conversation between the king and her father.

'Cheer up, if your shoulders droop any lower, you will be sweeping the ground with your tunic. At least your father gave you until the last day of spring to find a maiden of your choice, before he enforces the ball.' She said in an effort to lighten her friend's mood. For all her efforts, he gave her a look that would silence an orc.

'Take it that I said naught, then.' She said, plunging into thought as she contemplated how she could be of help. Her curious silence garnered a puzzled look from the prince. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm helping you to think. Two heads are better than one.' She said in reply. For a few moments the atmosphere was disquietingly silent. Legolas could feel the eerie silence reverberating in his ears, feeling him with a sense of unease. He could almost imagine the cogs turning in her head, her mind swirling with all sorts of ideas.

Then suddenly her eyes lit up with a light that made Legolas even more uncomfortable. I think I know what she is going to say and I do not want to know what she has to say. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing for his friend not to speak, but his prayers were either unheard or conveniently ignored.

'I have a proposal to make,' Mirielel said a little too smugly for comfort. 'What say you, to me helping you find your match.'

'No.' The answer was an instantaneous, resounding no. Mirielel was trouble on legs, and any of her schemes would inevitably result in mayhem. Of course, the fact that the very same thing could be said of himself did not occur to Legolas, who had been the chief mastermind in executing many of her schemes and had orchestrated many more equally convoluted plots of his own. This would not occur to him. Neither would he remember that the notorious stunts pulled off by they pulled off along with two childhood friends had collectively earned them the nickname of the Fearsome Foursome. Right now, he only knew that this particular look in her eyes spelt trouble, and in that moment he knew fear.

The fact that her most recent attempt at matchmaking had ended up in abject failure was further reason to say no. She had introduced Legolas to a beautiful, gentle, intelligent and understanding maiden, who had quite charmed the prince. Only that they would find out months later, that she was not quite as gentle or understanding as they had supposed. Quite to the contrary, she had a jealous streak that ran a mile wide and had firmly forbidden Legolas from associating with any member of the opposite gender. Legolas was not allowed to talk to Mirielel, who had been his lifelong friend and confidante. She had even flared up on seeing him take a bowl from the butler's wife, a matronly figure who had been his nanny as an elfling! It seemed that her jealousy knew no bounds.

Having tired of her endless insecurities and accusations, Legolas had broken off their relationship, but the girl took to stalking him and confronting any female he came into contact with. It was only when her mother arrived at the palace, looking terribly flustered as she looked for her daughter, did they find out that the girl was insane, devastated by the loss of her love in a skirmish with orcs. The mother had brought the girl home to the woodland settlement just north of the palace, reassuring the prince that she would be under constant supervision, but the incident had resulted in a general wariness that Legolas exhibited especially whenever he was out of the palace.

Judging by the look on her face, Mirielel seemed to have thought of the incident too. 'Oh, that time.'

'How was I to know that she was mentally unstable. She exhibited no outward signs at all. Surely you can't hold that against me?' She protested weakly.

But the prince would not be swayed.

She tried every form of persuasion she knew, and seeing as her father was a diplomat in Thranduil's court, and she, once his understudy, her repertoire was considerable. She proceeded to try every trick in the book: She swore on the warrior's code, begged him humbly, promised to complete a host of favours, even used their friendship as leverage, yet Legolas remained firm in his rejection of her help. She flashed her a smile that would melt glaciers and used her puppy dog eyes; combined they almost broke his resolve, but he just managed to hang on and refuse her.

Finally convinced that he would not concede, Mirielel slumped onto the grass, ready to admit defeat. The elleth painted a despondent picture, her head drooping, shoulders sagging and eyes downcast. She looked so utterly cheerless, that the prince could not resist the feelings of sympathy for he knew she had truly tried her best the last time and the maiden's insanity was hardly discernible even to the girl's own mother (as she had revealed) at times. The use of her charm, and the rising sympathy and desire to see Mirielel restored to her constant state of effervescence proved to undo the prince.

Legolas sighed. He could never deny anything she wanted. 'Why did I have to fall for that?' He wondered out loud for the umpteenth time in his life.

Mirielel looked up at him and blinked, the implications of his resigned statement only just registering in her mind. 'You mean...'

Legolas nodded.

'Yes!' Mirielel was practically bounding with joy. The elf maiden took her friend's hands and did a little victory jig to celebrate. Legolas on the other hand, was none too ecstatic and even starting to think he had made the wrong choice. Trying to reassure himself that all would be well, he could already hear Lasbelin's cynical laughter in his head. However, seeing her joy, he shook his head and berated himself for his weakness, before half-grudgingly allowing himself to be brought into her celebratory display.


	2. Preparations

Disclaimer: If you're reading this you're an ass or some fellow desperate for a quick buck. Read my lips- the recognizable stuff belongs to Tolkien while the others are mine. evil grin So there.

A/N: A big thank you to all who reviewed. I was really encouraged. Before I proceed with the story, I'd like to clarify that Thranduil isn't forcing Legolas to get married. He is trying to help his son find a match. The ball can be avoided as long as Legolas finds a match in time. Otherwise Legolas will just have to go through the ball, nothing more. By the way, does anyone know what the Canon refers to?

Never mind. On with the story.

Chapter 2

Mirielel had woken up extra early that morn and was humming merrily to herself, when she heard a knock on the door. It was her Merilin, her friend and confidant.

'Good morning, Merilin. Did you have a good night's sleep?' Mirielel acknowledged the presence of her friend. The blonde smiled sweetly in return, cheeks dimpling.

'Indeed, Mir. Do you need anything?' The girl asked helpfully. Mirielel considered the long list of things she needed to accomplish. She smiled and shook her head.

'Are you sure?' The girl asked. Mirielel nodded her head. 'Yes, I am perfectly comfortable.'

'How about your hair? Do you need me to help you braid it?' The girl persisted, gray eyes flashing with what could only be described— as defiance and a twinge of desperation. Mirielel's brow shot up in an expression picked up from the youngest prince of Mirkwood, amusement dancing in her eyes. Too much of his influence and company, she mused.

'No thank you, Merilin.' Mirielel waved her hand dismissively, deciding on a more direct approach. Yet the _elleth (elf-maiden)_ seemed made no move to leave, in fact, she seemed determined to stay.

'I'd like to stay and see that you are fine, before I leave Mir.' She said, before she walked over to a chair near the door and settled herself comfortably. A flash of annoyance flickered across Mirielel's face as she realised her friend was not about to budge any time soon. She was beginning to feeling irritated and somewhat baffled.

'Have it your way then.' She said with a shrug. She sat down at the dressing table and proceeded to braid her hair with practiced fingers. While she braided her hair, her mind was bombarded by questions, although her expression remained unchanged. Merilin was acting terribly out of character.

Although she was a lady of a noble family, Mirielel was not spoilt by the presence of hand-maidens who could wait on her hand and foot. She insisted on doing most things by herself, like all other elves who were not as privileged. Merilin knew Mirielel long enough to know that, so it could not be that she thought her incapable on handling such matter on her own. Rather, her friend seemed to be waiting for something, or more specifically someone. Mirielel had to suppress a smirk, as she noted the blatant impatience on Merilin's face. Still, she was puzzled as to the identity of this mysterious person who could make her friend behave thus.

So engrossed in her thoughts, Mirielel did not sense trouble until it was right at her face. Her hands moved to tie her hair into braids, when suddenly, she felt a sharp tug on her hair that made her cry out. With a sinking feeling, Mirielel realised with no small deal of embarrassment that after close to four hundred years of braiding her hair into the warrior braids, she had still somehow managed to tangle up the braids. She could just feel the triumphant gaze of one elven maiden on her back.

'Do not say it.' Mirielel felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the elementary mistake. Merilin would never let her live it down. She was certain of it. Lasbelin certainly would not.

'I told you so.' She hated it when her friend was somehow right. She just had to say it, would she die if she did not? Mirielel turned to pinion the elleth with a rather impressive glare, but Merilin just moved to untangle the mass of silken dark locks and deftly re-braided it into the familiar warrior braids of Mirkwood warriors. Mirielel pondered for a moment at her familiarity with this hairstyle. She did not have brothers, her father was a healer, not a warrior, as such, there was no real reason for her to know the braiding. Unless, at this thought, Mirielel grinned inwardly, the mysterious person was a warrior. Maybe the warrior was under her charge. There was only one way to find out. It seemed that constable Mirielel would be busy that evening.

But beyond that, she was not given much time to contemplate further on the issue, for just then, Mirielel spied a dark head popping from behind the door.

'Neldor!' The two maidens cried out in unison. The smile on Mirielel's face only broadened as the mystery of the Merilin's affection was put to rest. Merilin blushed furiously for seeming overzealous in her greeting, but Neldor seemed not to notice, or if he did, he was doing a remarkable job of keeping up appearances.

'Hello _tithen muinthel_ (little sister),' He said, planting a kiss on her cheek, and with a coy smile he added, 'Hello, Merilin.' The significance of his expression was not lost on Mirielel, who was grinning from ear to ear at the revelation. Neldor looked at her strangely, if she grinned anymore, she would probably have split her face.

'Nothing,' she replied, snickering slightly, throwing a glance in Merilin's direction. Neldor's eyes widened as he grasped the meaning of her glance. Mirielel just smirked and looked meaningfully in her direction. With glee, she noted her brother's deliberate attempts to divert his attention from her friend's face and the similar attempts from the afore mentioned friend.

'Well,' said, clearing her voice, 'I have to go.'

'See you iaur muindor (older brother).' She said, taking her leave in an attempt to salvage the awkward situation. 'And goodbye to you too, Merilin.'

'Mayhap I will see you two later,' she said with a wink. Sneaking one last glance at the unlikely couple, Mirielel had to fight to suppress the urge to giggle. Who would have thought? Her best friend and her brother were well, together. Fortunately, the two were currently too preoccupied in trying to take their leave inconspicuously to notice the broad grin on her face that was spreading from ear to ear.

Turning on her heels, she exited the room and made a sharp turn around the corner, before she bursting promptly into a fit of giggles, garnering strange looks from passers-by. Now that she had seen the little display, she would have to keep an eye out for brother and her best friend, maybe a little help was in order. Of course, first things first, Legolas' matchmaking was top on her list of priorities for the day. She would be interviewing some potential wives for Legolas later in the afternoon. A few invitations had been sent out to some of the elf-lords' families and she was expecting a handful of interviewees. All preparations had already been made in advance. Ah yes, it was going to be quite a pleasant day.

Mirielel strolled towards her study, musing happily that the interviews would be a breeze. Perfect. Then she could have the rest of the afternoon off to practice her archery. She smiled to a few passing elves, bid good morning to the lords and ladies, and finally stopped right in front of her study.

Whistling merrily, she proceeded to open the door when she was greeted by the sight of her table was overflowing with stacks and piles of papers. She stopped dead in her steps and groaned inwardly. So much for a break, she thought. Picking up one, she skimmed through its contents and quickly surmised that it was a report on the recent Orc activity. Another was a letter requesting leave for one of the soldiers to be with his wife as she was in the last days of her pregnancy. With a sigh, she quickly approved the letter and continued to read the other papers. Since she had some time left before the interviews, she might as well spend it clearing out the paperwork.

Finally finished, she thought to herself as she signed the last report. The elf maiden got up from her desk and stretched. Grumbling, she massaged a sore spot in her neck, and working out the cricks in her shoulders.

She quickly swept her gaze across the room once last time, checking that it was in a satisfactory condition before closing the door behind her. She had already missed luncheon, working on her reports and she felt the need to fill her stomach. She grabbed a bun from the kitchen, pausing to peck her mother on the cheek. Now as she finished off the bun, the idea of getting another appealed strongly to her. Passing by the palace, she decided to take a peek at the situation outside the interview room. What a sight it was. Right in front of the oaken doors, a long line that snaked twice across the length of the hall and back had formed and was still growing. Mirielel gulped, mind reeling as it took in the implications of the queue. No time to get more food, she thought sadly.

All thoughts of food left her, to be replaced with ways to accommodate the increased interview pool and sneak Legolas into the interview room without him seeing the crowd or being mobbed by adoring maidens. Apparently she had made a slight judgemental error in estimating the crowd turnout. Make that a gross miscalculation. All the previous plans would have to be scraped. She realised that she would need to know the number of participants in order to make new plans and began counting the number of maidens that had turned up. One, two, three, four…

… Two hundred and twelve, two hundred and thirteen, two hundred and fou- Ai, it was useless. There were just too many of them. Mirielel gave up counting and decided to make a rough estimate. Gray orbs taking in the seemingly endless line, Mirielel's eyes widened as she realised there were easily a thousand maidens waiting, if not more. Her mind set frantically to work, re-planning the entire afternoon's activities and the new registration system. They would send elves down to the lines to record the names of the elf-maidens and allot them a number. They would interview as many as they could in one day and the rest would be spread over the next few days. Yes, that should work. She halted a passing elf and requested that he relayed her message to Merilin, before continuing on her way.

Now how she was going to sneak Legolas past all the maidens? It would take some work, but it was not impossible, she concluded after a moment of careful consideration. Now to find the room… Her analytic mind worked swiftly, recalling the layout of palace from blueprints committed to memory while on security detail, frantically tracing out and assessing each route, weighing the potential dangers of exposure with as much careful deliberation as if she had been informed of an impeding assassination. All the training she had undergone and experience from overseeing palace security was put to good use. Now, if she followed her current direction, she would immediately be caught. But what if… It might have potential… Her mind perked up at the possible escape route, processing faster as if it sensed that her salvation was near. If she took the prince down this hallway, she could use the second stairway that would take them down a set of corridors that was rarely frequented. From there she could take the fourth flight of stairs on the right and enter from the second side entrance to the interview room… Yes that would do, she concluded happily as her nose picked up the delightful aroma of fresh bread. Unconsciously, her wandering mind and straying food had taken her to the kitchen. She made away with a piece, leaving a note of thanks on the table and swiftly returned the way she came.

As she nibbled on the small bun, it occurred to her that Legolas might not react positively to the development in events. She grimaced, reminded of the infamous wrath of the house of Thranduil in general and especially that of the youngest prince. Her mind immediately set to work, churning up as many ways as she could possibly conceive of to placate that famous temper, some inventive, some vaguely plausible, though she had to discard quite a handful that were downright silly. So it was that with her thoughts occupied once more, she did not notice where her feet were taking her, until she found herself looking down at a rather familiar pair of boots, shined to perfection, blocking her way…

'Le… Legolas,' Mirielel managed to greet him, barely avoiding a stammer. She found herself having to squash an impulse to turn tail and flee, and flashed an overly bright smile in an attempt to conceal her sudden mounting panic. 'I was just thinking of you.' And for reasons other than you might think, she mentally added. Legolas quirked a brow at his friend's overly jovial mood. He was not exactly happy that he would be match-made with some stranger he hardly knew and even less thrilled that his friend seemed to be deriving some perverse pleasure from match-making him.

'A good afternoon to you, Mir,' Legolas said, giving her a suspicious look. She was behaving oddly, as if she was… jittery? Legolas found himself unable to shake off a sense of foreboding rising which he promptly suppressed. Even as he tried to reassure himself that everything would be fine, he could not quite ignore the part of his mind that was hysterically laughing at the fact that he even considered the notion.

'Nice dress.' He commented in an attempt to chase the less than cheery thoughts from his mind, in reference to the pale yellow gown she had picked out.

'Thanks. Same goes for your suit.' She said with a drawn out low whistle at his getup. A blue tunic with holly leaves embroidered on the sleeves complimented white long pants. In a word, he looked charming. Legolas smiled.

'How are the preparations going?'

'There were some… last minute changes, but it should be fine,' Mirielel said, smoothly covering over her nervousness. Legolas felt his brow shot up at the implications of her word choice, but he did not want to voice them immediately. In his current mood, he did not wish to tempt fate by even mentioning the thought of trouble. Still, he could not ignore the churning sensation in the pits of his stomach.

'Good then,' he said with false cheer. 'I'd like to go take a look at the interview room,' He barely finished his sentence before heading towards the main route to the hall.

'No!' Mirielel exclaimed, startling her friend into halt.

'I mean why not you take the side way? It's faster.' She corrected herself in a calmer voice, not forgetting to smile. If Legolas was feeling sceptical earlier, his feelings of apprehension were only increased tenfold by her peculiar behaviour. And he had almost been able to convince himself that everything would run smoothly for once. Legolas looked at her strangely once again, before resuming his route to through the main hallway, with Mirielel following worriedly at his heels.

'Why do you persist in going there directly?' Mirielel asked. 'There's still some time to go. How about we take a more leisurely walk there? You haven't been to the gardens in some time, and I know just the route that would pass by it.'

She suggested a few more routes, in the vain hope that in might deter her from his chosen path and her impeding doom. By now however, he had completely ceased in his steps, the desperation that had leaked into his voice sending the warning bells tolling ominously in the back of his mind.

'And why do you seem to insist that I go another way. Is something wrong?' Legolas stopped and turned to eye the elf-maiden suspiciously, nearly causing her to crash into him.

'No, nothing's wrong. Nothing at all.' Mirielel reassured him hurriedly, though her voice emerged a few pitches higher than usual.

'Good.' Legolas said, starting his pace again. They were reaching the end of the hallway already. Mirielel closed her eyes. This was it. She could almost see Mandos' Halls beckoning to her in the distance. But I'm not ready to go yet, I'm still young, I love you mother, but you're supposed to be waiting a few millennia or so before we meet again. She sent a word of prayer to the Valar for her tortured soul before being drawn back into the conversation.

'Since you say everything is fine, then there should be no problem in me going this—'

'— way!' He finished lamely. Legolas' jaw dropped in shock, as he rounded the corner. The sight of a massive turnout greeted a severely unprepared prince. He grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her back round the corner.

'Why didn't you tell me?' Legolas said through clenched teeth, glaring at the unfazed maiden.

'My arm if you will,' Mirielel said wryly. Legolas mumbled an apology and released her arm.

'I was going to, I tried warning you.' She looked at him somewhat ruefully, before her voice took on a more playful tone. 'Oh come on, don't act like you don't know.' He gave a blank look. Oh for Manwe's sake! For all his considerable tracking and hunting instincts, the boy could be a little unobservant at times.

'In case you did not realise, you have been the centre of attraction for as long as we all can remember, so it should be expected.' Mirielel threw her hands up in despair as Legolas gave her a pointed look. Yes, he was well aware of the admiring gazes he attracted. He just was simply more modest in his estimations of the extent of his influence, he rationalised to himself. He had after all been away on patrol for most of the last thirty years, though he neglected to factor in the long memories of the elvenkind.

'Don't give me that look Thranduilion,' she said matching his look with one of her own. 'If you wish to remain unscathed I suggest you follow me now quickly through the side path.' Legolas was quick to comply.

'It will be fine,' she told him, though it was as much to reassure herself as it was for him. She turned her head slightly to face him as they strode hastily to the interview room via her alternative route. He nodded and steeled himself, gulping to moisten her dry throat before he schooled his features as he slipped into the mode reserved specially for diplomatic negotiations. It was the one he used to deal with all the crusty, crafty ambassadors from lands like Imladris and Gondor, polite but distant, unfortunately it would do little to fend off the hordes of maidens on his case. 

An hour (or in Mirielel's case, what felt like an eternity) later, the throng of elf-maidens outside the interview room were settled and the interviewers had seated themselves inside, waiting patiently for the first candidate to enter. In the meanwhile, the silence in the room was unnerving. Being faced with nothing to do, Legolas allowed his mind to drift off to earlier memories…

The elf-child had sneaked out into the forest again. He knew that his father would be furious when he found out; however, he would rather risk a beating than remain in the agonizingly boring lore lessons. Thinking about the whipping he would receive, he winced slightly, but resolved to continue what he had already started. He found elven-lore interesting, however his tutor was the most long-winded and dreary person who killed the subject for him. Mallorn was a capable and caring councillor, but the worst lore-master for miles around. 

He crept along silently, avoiding any living soul, until he came to his favourite spot under the ancient oak tree. Once there he settled himself comfortably under the tree and rested under its shade. He daydreamed of the time when he would be old enough to learn the bow and become the best warrior possible. In his reveries, he was a renowned bowman who patrolled the borders of Mirkwood and terrorised the evil denizens, who quailed at the mere mention of his name. Yes, he would slay orcs with his nice shiny elven blades and precise arrows, rescuing citizens from the clutches of the evil witch wearing a baby pink dress. Wait, a baby pink dress? Where did that come from? 

He rubbed his eyes and focused on the elven girl in a baby pink dress, hanging from a branch in front of him. Judging from her clothes, she was probably one of the court councillors' daughters, although at that moment her behaviour was not very ladylike. Nonetheless, he decided quickly, councillor's daughter or not, trespassers were not welcome, especially in his secret hiding place. 

'Who are you and why are you intruding under my tree?' 

He eyed the stranger suspiciously. When he discovered the place several years back, he had claimed the tree as his private property and no one had ever contested his ownership rights to his spot. It was widely recognised as his turf and the servants rarely disturbed him there. The girl landed softly on the ground and dusted herself, looking at the elven prince. Remembering his position, he repeated his question in a much gentler tone, 'who might you be and what brings you here milady?'

The girl was startled by the sudden change in tone. 

'Am I correct in saying you would be Prince Legolas?' She asked none-too-confidently. Receiving a nod, she continued, 'My father asked me to request you return for your lore-lessons.'

So she was Mallorn's daughter. At this new revelation, Legolas looked at the newcomer with newfound interest. She was rather pretty, a little on the petite side, but pretty nonetheless. He could think of a few boys who would go for her anytime. However, he noticed that she was not flinching at her scrutiny and still waiting for an answer. This girl was different from the rest. 

'I am not going back to those horrible lessons, not even if they get Laeghen to drag me back.' He stated defiantly, chin set determinedly and challenging the girl with sparkling gray eyes. Laeghen was the fiercest of his father's warriors; he was unafraid of pain and would fight on even when riddled with injuries. He had saved the king several times and was held in high regard by the sovereign. Legolas was secretly frightened by his harsh demeanour. Then he hesitated. Okay, maybe if it was Alfirin he would return. He shivered as he thought of all the horror stories he had heard about him. Then again, if it were orcs, he would not be afraid. Or not. He continued wrestling with himself along the same lines, unconscious of the watchful eyes of the girl.

'I am not leaving until you leave.' She said simply, bringing Legolas out of his internal conflict. The girl sure was stubborn, Legolas thought to himself. Since she was not leaving until he left, maybe she could play with him. He was bored. 

'Will you play with me?' Legolas asked. The girl blinked and cocked he head to one side. She answered after a while, 'My father would kill me if he found out.' 

Legolas found the girl unusually brusque (like Laeghen, maybe they were related). Yes, he decided, definitely related to Laeghen. There, even the eyes and nose bore some resemblance, except the hair perhaps, he mused to himself. Maybe she had some horribly strict training from her father, or she was just born cold. Yes, that was it. His thoughts rambled on, snowballing and becoming even more ludicrous. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she said,' you must really hate your lessons. My father is pretty boring, isn't he?' 

Legolas looked startled by her admission, 'Yes, he is. He is indeed.' 

The girl laughed at his stunned expression. It was a merry sound. 'I always fall asleep when he starts his lectures.' The prince bobbed his head up and down emphatically. 

'Mirielel,' she said, offering her hand. 

'Legolas,' He said, shaking her hand. 'Pleased to meet you.'

She smiled. Then, she tensed. 

'I hear it too.' He said.

'Into the tree, quick.' The two elf-children climbed swiftly into the highest bough of the oak. 

The shrubbery thinned as Neldor pressed on deeper into forest. The prince had run off during lore-lessons and his sister had gone after him. That was an hour ago. Two children in the forest by themselves was not a pretty prospect when evil lurked at every corner. 

He was about to give up when he heard a faint rustling in one of the trees. He swiftly grabbed his bow and put an arrow to it. He focused and pointed his arrow at the specific tree it was coming from and readied himself for the shot. 

'It's all right.' Mirielel said when she had seen the intruder. 'Neldor won't hurt us.' Guess again. Before they knew it, a bow was aimed at their exact position. 

'Tiro! It's just me Neldor,' she cried out, jumping out of her hiding spot. The prince followed suit. In his shock, Neldor only narrowly managed to tilt the bow, deflecting the arrow such that it flew right past Mirielel's cheek, cutting shallowly. 

'Mir, you could have gotten seriously injured!' he exclaimed. 

'And you almost seriously hurt me,' she said wryly, contrasted sharply by the mirth in her twinkling eyes. She put a hand to her cheek and examined the cut. Not too bad. 

'But you did not. And I trust you well enough.' Neldor smiled. 

'Next time you decide to go gallivanting off in the woods, just say so. That will save me a lot of trouble.' He paused, looking to his sister for assurance that the day's performance would not be repeated. He received an assurance, although he was sure that promise would be forgotten in no time at all. 

'Don't tell ada,' she said abruptly. 

'Why not?' He tilted his head to one side, giving a questioning look. 

Then he saw the elfling behind her in the shadows and guessed it was the runaway prince. He understood now. King Thranduil was secretly known to be very strict with his youngest son, if Legolas was found out, he would be severely punished. 

'And how will I explain the cut on your face?' He inquired. 

'So you promise?' Mirielel asked hopefully. Neldor nodded. 

'I knew you would. Thanks Nel, I knew I could count on you.' She said, bouncing up and down. Neldor smiled, waiting patiently for an answer to his question as he was hugged fiercely by an overenthusiastic elfling. 

'Oh, the question. Just say that I was hit by an arrow when I startled a hunting elf.' She said nonchalantly. 'It is partially true. Besides, I'm sure you can find a logical explanation with your great intellect.'

Her brother rolled his eyes. 

Legolas looked on at the two very similar elves in front of him. One was tall, one was short. One was male, one was female. But they both had identical long raven hair and the same expressive gray eyes that lightened and darkened with their moods, not to mention similar demeanours (the tilted head must be a family trait). Legolas looked from one elf to another as they traded banter like they had known each other for a long time. Within the short span of time that they chattered, his mind had turned from fear of discovery to surprise at their decision to help him. Legolas looked gratefully to Mirielel.

Suddenly, he was dragged out of his cover in the shadows and in front of the strange elf called Neldor.

'I take it that you must be Prince Legolas.' 'Neldor' asked pleasantly. 

Before Legolas could react and asked how he knew, Mirielel had answered for him. 

'Neldor, meet Prince Legolas. Legolas, meet my brother, Neldor, he is two hundred years older than me but acts half his age,' she said with a grin and a wink. 

'Hey.' Neldor pretended to look offended. Legolas looked amused by the show of juvenile behaviour.

They would have loved to continue the delightful interaction, but as Mirielel pointed out, the sky was darkening and it was getting late. They were best getting back home where their fathers were probably waiting for them at the dining table. The three elves headed back towards the home where it was safest. 

'Well, it is goodbye I fear,' Legolas said. He looked up sadly at his newfound friends. The siblings both felt sorry for the prince. 

'Maybe you could come over for dinner and we could make an excuse.' Neldor said brightly.

'Do join us. I'm sure my father can pass a message that you were having dinner at my place to study more.' Mirielel added pleadingly. 

Legolas was scared of what his father might do, but he gave in finally to her soulful puppy dog eyes. With a resigned look, he found himself dragged to Mallorn's house to have dinner. It proved quite the experience as he saw a much softer side to the stern councillor, whom he found to be unexpectedly understanding. He actually promised not to tell on the prince, but at a price of course— that the prince made up for the missed lessons with extra lessons after dinner.

Much as Legolas disliked the idea of lessons with Mallorn, he had no choice but to agree and he was actually thankful for the concession. It was also made better by the fact that Mirielel had promised to join him in lessons. Though she was a few years younger, she had already started lessons under her father and was on par with him. A dispatch was sent to the king, who had been surprised at the sudden hardworking nature of the prince. And thus Prince Legolas Thranduilion spent the night studying at Mallorn's house, like he would do in the many nights to come.

Mirielel's age in this story is around 500 years old. In one of the books, Legolas made a comment about seeing the leaves fall 500 times. Seeing as Master Tolkien did not indicate his age anywhere, I have taken the liberty of writing his age to be around 500. Mirielel is close in age to him, but slightly younger. She has braided the warrior braids for 400 years here as in my story I have made the official age where initiates are made warriors to be around 100 years' old. In The History of Middle-earth X Morgoth's Ring, elves are said to come to their full stature between the ages of 50 and 100. So in my stories, the elves have 2 comings of age: the first at 50 and the second, when they are considered full adults and thus old enough to be warriors, at 100.


End file.
